


That Time Where Ed Accidentally Made a Kid's (not) Water Bottle Explode Into Flames

by mustardbastard



Series: Professor Elric Shenanigans [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: 520 Day | Edward Elric/Roy Mustang Day, Adult Edward Elric, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Edward Elric Swears, Fluff and Humor, IT'S STILL 5/20 HERE SO, M/M, Maes Hughes Lives, Professor Edward Elric, Schmoop, ['and they were roommates' voice] and they were MARRIED, and becomes a high school teacher lol, but if it is canon one thing:, could be seen as mangahood compliant or modern au, married royed, maybe???, professor elric, uhhh, why isnt professor ed a tag wtf guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-09 00:53:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18906181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mustardbastard/pseuds/mustardbastard
Summary: or rather, the one where ed is a college professor subbing for a high school science class and he really can't go anywhere without making something explode or burst into flames—but it's not his fault this time, really!—and he complains about his day to his husband over food





	That Time Where Ed Accidentally Made a Kid's (not) Water Bottle Explode Into Flames

**Author's Note:**

> IT'S STILL 5/20 WHERE IM AT (hell YEAH thxs west coast) and im saying FUCK my stats final & hw I give up  
> so I (/finally/) finished a stupid little fic that I started back in march & wrote like 90% of in 3 days before I got stuck on the ending until today  
> based on a tumblr textpost I saw about some person's chaotic science teacher and so??? here we are ig  
> im awful at titles idk what to call this jkdgfkjdgfk;f help

Never again.

 

Never again, is what he tells himself as Ed makes his way home. There is absolutely no fucking _way_ Ed will ever sub for another high school class _ever again_ . There is a _reason_ Ed teaches students at a collegiate level, and it's not just because he's too smart to be wasted on teaching lower division science. It's because teenagers are goddamn _fucking idiots_ and Ed does not have the patience to deal with that on a daily basis for seven hours at a time. Sure, undergrad students aren't necessarily much better―what with college being their first time away from home unsupervised for an extended amount of time, causing them to go a bit wild in the beginning―but once they've reached graduate, or even just upper division undergrad, they tend to have mellowed out and actually take their studies and what Ed’s teaching seriously. It helps too, that he's not usually teaching everyday with back-to-back classes. But the _point_ ―Ed refuses to teach high school classes and he can't believe that he let himself get suckered into subbing for one. He must be getting soft as he ages, if the patented Edward Elric Scowl™ wasn't enough to drive the one asking him to sub for them away.

 

He sighs, and the tension in his shoulders is making it a bitch to be able to unlock the door to his house. He finally manages to fumble with his keys and the deadbolt enough to get it to open, and as Ed steps through the doorway, he can feel himself automatically relaxing, tension bleeding away at the scent that greets his nose.

 

“Is that Cretan food I’m fucking smelling?” he shouts in lieu of a greeting, as he pushes the door shut with his foot. It slams closed. _Oops_. Must still be a bit tense, if he kicked the door hard enough to make it slam shut. Ed usually tries to avoid slamming the doors of his house if he can―it's home, and it took him a long enough time to be able to find that and understand what it meant for himself. So he's not too fond of treating one of the few places he thinks of as a personal sanctuary super roughly―though classroom and office doors are still fair game for kicking and slamming. He may have matured since his days as a teenager, but Ed is in no way a calm or subdued adult.

 

A familiar face surrounded by shaggy black hair pokes its way out of the kitchen.

 

“Yes, I stopped by that place we're fond of on my way from the office. I had figured neither of us would be up for cooking dinner tonight.”

 

Ed shuffles his way over to the kitchen, quietly grumbling as he does. He wraps his arms around the other man’s waist, burying his face in his chest and inhaling deeply, breathing in the scent he's come to associate as _home_ . He feels a kiss pressed to the top of his head―and _no_ , he's not short, damnit, Roy is just freakishly tall, though Ed can't really find it in himself to mind that much anymore, when he fits perfectly in Roy’s arms like this.

 

“Welcome home, love. I take it that you managed to leave the children and school intact?” Roy asks, fondness lacing his tone.

 

Ed grouses into his shirt, “how the hell did _I_ get roped into covering Hughes’ classes today? He's _your_ best friend.”

 

Roy chuckles, and Ed can feel it rumbling through his chest. “That may be true, but _you_ are the one with the science degrees and who's the resident genius. I, on the other hand, had an appointment with what's surely to give me carpal tunnel one of these days. Not to mention, it wouldn't be me Maes would have to worry about convincing, but Riza, into allowing me to miss a day filling out paperwork.”

 

He's not pouting, but it's a near thing, though Ed would refuse to admit it. “Yeah whatever, you bastard.”

 

Roy nods with his head towards the plastic bags filled with takeout containers sitting upon the kitchen counter. “I was just about to unpack those and start dishing out dinner when you arrived. Would you like me to fill a plate for you and you can go relax for a few minutes?”

 

At this, Ed pulls back far enough to stare flatly up at Roy as an answer.

 

The corner of Roy’s mouth twitches up, into the beginnings of a smirk, and he rolls his eyes in amusement. “Right, silly of me to ask. I’ll make sure to put enough to feed a small army on yours,” he comments dryly.

 

Now, once upon a time, Ed may have exploded into an angry rant at the mention of the word ‘small’ being implied about him, but Ed likes to think he's grown, in both height and maturity. So he simply extricates himself from Roy’s arms and narrows his eyes in warning.

 

“If you bought any of those kebab things, I want _at least_ three,” he says, before exiting out of the kitchen and dashing up the stairs into their bedroom.

 

§†§

 

Clothed in something more comfortable and stomach full of hot, delicious Cretan food, Ed feels more relaxed than he has all day. He can almost forget the disaster of a headache that was today. _Almost_. At least until Roy asks him about how teaching Maes’ classes went and Ed is forced to remember.

 

“ _Ugh,_ ” he groans, just barely resisting the urge to slam his face down into the table. As it is, he pinches the bridge of his nose in irritation, a habit he's picked up from the man sitting across from him―which Ed is sure Roy is just positively _smug_ about.

 

Roy hums in sympathy. “That bad, huh?”

 

“Okay, like, I know that I was basically a genius in high school and shit and I really shouldn't be judging them by my standards, but shit, really, are all teenagers so―” he flails his hand around in desperation for a word, “so goddamn _idiotic_?”

 

His husband raises an eyebrow. “Well they _are_ teenagers, Edward. Most people would consider a bit of youthful foolishness a requirement of the word.”

 

“No, I mean―shit, I fucking know that much, but like―this one kid―” Ed huffs in frustration. “It was Hughes’ environmental science class, right? And I remember how boring classes could be in high school when it was just lectures, even if it actually was a fun science, so I figured I’d do a practical demonstration and let them experiment, ya know? Make it more interactive and engaging and shit. S’not like Hughes really left me a lesson plan or anything.”

 

If it's at all possible, Roy’s eyebrow seems to raise up even further. Ed can just _tell_ that Roy is waiting to hear about what property damage Ed has caused now.

 

“ _Oi_ ―don't give me that look you bastard, I didn't make anything explode this time!―er, not really at least…” he trails off, mumbling.

 

There's a look of exasperation on Roy’s face now, but it's tinged with a familiar fondness. Wryly, he asks, “we're not going to be getting any lawsuits from angry parents, are we, dear?”

 

Ed blows a strand of hair out of his face, pursing his lips. “Oh shaddup, that was _one_ time,” he gripes. “‘Sides, you got them to drop the case eventually, didn't you?” At this, he flashes Roy his best shit-eating grin, knowing exactly just how much _fun_ Roy had had dealing with that. He waves his hand at the pinch of worry beginning to form between Roy’s brows. “Don’t worry about it. There wasn't any damn explosion or anything, just a little bit of fire. Like, a _teensy-weensy_ bit.” He pinches two of his fingers together to demonstrate just exactly how little the fire was.

 

Roy sighs, shaking his head. “How you would manage to start a fire in an _environmental_ science class, I can't even begin to fathom. Then again, this is _you_ we're talking about―I really shouldn't be surprised. And how exactly did this ‘ _teensy-weensy_ ’ fire come about?”

 

“Well―ok, so, I was showing ‘em how pumice floats in water, to kinda show how the composition and density of materials affects how it reacts to water and why all that garbage ‘n shit is fuckin’ up the ocean ten different ways to Hell. And I figured, it's _pumice_ ―shit’s pretty fucking harmless so it couldn't hurt to let the kids mess around with it themselves, yanno? So I went around and dumped pieces of it in their water bottles―and shit, you'd think they'd never seen a rock float in water before, the way they kept staring. But―whatever. I got to this one table, and the last bottle I tossed a piece in―it fucking sunk. All the way to the bottom. And this bottle was, shit, it had to be about a liter at least? Stupidly huge. Anyway, I see it sink and I’m immediately suspicious, because I _know_ it can't be the pumice causing that, and the kid was lookin’ kinda shifty too, like Al did when he would bring home stray cats and try to hide ‘em from me. So I struck a match and tossed it in too. And then, uh―mild boom?” Ed says, sheepishly. “Turns out the kid was chugging vodka, and you know how well alcohol reacts to fire and with just how _much_ there was…”

 

The low light in their dining room glints off of the gold band of the ring on Roy’s hand as he moves it to cover his face. His voice is muffled slightly as he replies, “and to think, that I thought at one point in time, that you were simply exaggerating your propensity for getting into trouble in the most basic of situations. I don’t know whether I should be more concerned for you or the student.” Despite the tiredness of his words, there's mirth shining in Roy’s eyes as he looks back up at Ed.

 

Ed shrugs, unapologetic. “You can't say I didn't try to warn you at least before you married me. And _relax_ alright, no need to cause any more premature grey hairs, you geezer. I’m fine, the kid was fine―he wasn't even really close enough to have to worry about singed eyebrows. Worst thing that happened was the desk got a bit scorched. Fire alarm didn't go off or nothin’.”

 

Roy frowns at the mention of grey hairs, the damn peacock, and it turns into an outright pout when Ed makes the comment about eyebrows getting singed. He unconsciously rubs at the scar near his left eyebrow, and Ed has to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. Really, for all that his husband is kind and decent and trying to help improve Amestris, he can be so vain sometimes. Ed will never admit it, but he finds it kinda cute. While he was able to successfully swallow his laughter, Ed can't help but to smirk a bit.

 

“Well, I suppose that's a great deal better than the alternative, at least. I take it you decided to leave any disciplinary action up to Maes?”

 

“Yeah, I figured letting him choose how to deal with it was easier than me trying to and having to deal with a buncha bureaucratic bullshit because I’m technically not their teacher. Plus I think the combination of me swearing and having his life choices literally blow up in his face might've been enough to get him to think before being stupid again.”   

 

Roy takes a delicate sip of wine from his glass, and leans his head against his other hand, two fingers pressed to his temple with his thumb hooked under his jaw to balance. He's the picture of nonchalance and Ed doesn't buy it for even a second. Not with the way he can see the tell-tale signs of a smirk fighting to break free.

 

“Having been on the receiving end of one of your tirades before, I can attest to their effectiveness under the right circumstances. I’m sure he realized just exactly how, _incendiary_ , his choices were,” he practically purrs.

 

Ed fixes a pointed stare at him, narrowed eyes not breaking contact with Roy’s and mouth in a flat, unamused line. “Your pun game is getting weak if that's the best you could come up with.”

 

Roy makes a small sound of amusement. “Of course; sorry to disappoint. I’ll make sure to add ‘increase repertoire of creative puns’ to the top of my priority list. I’m sure Riza won't mind my research causing a backlog in paperwork,” he says dryly.

 

Ed rolls his eyes and smiles, shaking his head slightly because he knows _exactly_ how well that would go over with Hawkeye. He can already picture the stare Roy would get and the ‘click’ as she flicks the safety on her gun off. Yeah, no.

 

There's a quiet lull in conversation for a moment as Ed’s imagining things, but it's far from stifling. That’s one of the things Ed appreciates about his relationship with Roy; it was far from easy in the beginning, what with the two of them both being so headstrong and similar in other regards, but he’s never felt like he _has_ to say something when he's with Roy. These quiet silences are comfortable, and though it's taken him years, Ed’s learned to not take quiet for granted.

 

His gaze flicks up from his plate to Roy, who's staring at him, seemingly lost in his own thoughts, and back down again. Another thing that Ed appreciates about Roy, though it used to annoy the ever living fuck out of him before he learned to do so in turn, is how well Roy can read him and anticipate his needs.

 

Ed nudges Roy’s ankle under the table with his own, making sure to be gentle with his metal limb. “Thanks for picking up dinner by the way. I know it was s’pposed to be my turn for taking care of it but I don't think anything I’d’ve made tonight would've been edible.” He stands, stacking the plates together. “I’ll get the dishes in exchange. You go sit on the couch, and bitch about whatever shit you had to deal with at work to me once I’m done, yeah?”

 

Roy looks up at him and smiles softly. “Sounds good, love.” He reaches up to gently tug on a strand of Ed’s hair, and Ed follows the pull, bending slightly to press their lips together. Whatever’s weighing on Roy’s mind, causing his shoulders to tense, seems to melt away at their touch.

 

He pulls away, and Roy’s fingers remain tangled in Ed’s hair for a moment, before slowly sliding out, hand coming to rest limply on the table. “I’ll be like, ten minutes, max, so don't fall asleep on me or anything,” he warns, teasingly.

 

“Whatever you say, _Professor Elric_ ,” Roy drawls.

 

Ed flushes slightly, but chooses not to quip back with his own retort, irritated that he still reacts to Roy calling him that. You'd think after years of getting called that by hundreds of people, he'd be used it, but something about the way it sounds coming out of Roy’s mouth, in that smooth baritone of his, makes Ed… Well, at least he can say that he sort of understands the way Roy reacts when Ed calls him ‘sir’. Not that he'd ever admit to that.

 

“That's Elric-Mustang to _you_ ,” he says. Okay, so maybe he couldn't resist one comment. Sue him.

 

As he makes his way into the kitchen, balancing plates on one hand and clutching wine glasses in the other, Ed can hear Roy shuffle into their living room and turn on the radio. It's a few moments before Roy finds something he deems acceptable, but once he's settled on a station, Ed faintly detects over the sound of the faucet running the beginning notes of the song that played at their wedding. He smiles to himself as he rinses their dishes. _Fucking sap_ , he thinks fondly. It doesn't take long for him to finish his task, and he joins Roy in the other room, mismatched footsteps muffled by the carpet. He pads up behind him and Ed wraps his arms around Roy’s waist, resting the side of his face in the space between his husband’s shoulder blades. Ed squeezes gently, once, his fingers knotting themselves into the cotton of Roy’s button down.

 

“Hey,” he says softly.

 

“Hey yourself,” Roy replies, slipping his fingers in between Ed’s. He sways gently along with the rhythm of the music and Ed allows himself to sway as well, grounded and relaxed with the contact.

 

They remain like that, silent, and moving like willows in a gentle spring breeze until the song ends. As soon as the last note fades out and the next song starts to play, Ed’s pulling Roy backwards until they’re a tangled mess of limbs on the couch. He squirms around underneath Roy until they’re both situated, with Ed leaning into the corner where the back of the couch and the arm meet, and Roy is reposing in between Ed’s legs, curled slightly so that his head rests just above Ed’s heart.

 

Fuck anyone who assumes Roy is automatically the big spoon because he’s the taller one—Ed makes a perfectly fucking fine big spoon, thank you very much.

 

One hand resting atop Roy’s shoulder, he cards his fingers of his free hand through Roy’s inky black locks. “Your hair’s getting kinda long,” Ed comments.

 

“Hmm?” Roy questions. “Oh, yes, I’ve been meaning to get it cut but there hasn’t been time lately,” he responds absently. “Everything’s been a little bit… hectic, these past few weeks and matters like that fell to the wayside.”

 

“I could always cut it for ya if you want,” the blond offers, more in jest than seriously.

 

Roy cranes his head to look up at Ed’s face and squints blearily at him. “Ed, darling, I trust you with my life— _Riza_ trusts you with my life, but I am _not_ letting you anywhere near my hair with a pair of scissors.”

 

“Who said anything about using scissors?” He grins, teeth flashing in the lamp-light, _just_ straddling the border of predator-like.

 

Roy ducks his head back down and he shakes with silent laughter. “You’re utterly incorrigible.”

 

Ed lifts the shoulder that Roy isn’t leaning on in a half-shrug. “I’ve been called worse,” he says, unrepentant.

 

They lapse back into silence, and enough time passes that Ed begins to wonder if Roy’s fallen asleep, lulled by the sound of Ed’s heartbeat. But he’s proven wrong eventually, as he hears his husband take a calming breath—Roy was just taking his time to gather his thoughts, to finally allow himself to open up about what’s been stressing him out so much.

 

And Ed really isn’t sure what to expect—he doesn’t keep up much with what happens in Roy’s field of work, outside of what Roy himself and his team tell him. But he knows that whatever it is—whether it’s an ornery dignitary or something causing complications and blocking a bill Roy is trying to get to pass—Ed will listen, will be there for Roy in whatever capacity he may need him.

 

For Roy would do—and _does_ —the same for him; they’re a team, after all. It’s only equivalent exchange.

**Author's Note:**

> henlo!  
> kudos/comments fuel me, so like,,,, if u liked this, like even a smidge....... pls let me know i'll be Big Love @ u forever <3


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